


Melt Weather

by CourtneyWagner



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Amberson, F/F, F/M, amberprice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25226386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourtneyWagner/pseuds/CourtneyWagner
Summary: She was willing to kill for it, burn for it, suffer for it, kiss for it and even sell her soul to the devil for it.However, she didn’t know she could sign a deal with a dripping smile. She didn’t know Lucifer could silently slip a diamond cuff around neck, yank the chain and choke her into submission. She didn’t know the terror of looking up at his towering shadow and realizing that she didn’t sell her soul to him, but instead her most valuable commodity; her youth.Not everyone gets to be so lucky in love.Synopsis:Rachel Amber is desperate to start her career as a model, however she is only receiving rejection letters from all the agencies. After a disastrous photo shoot with Nathan Prescott, she decides to ask for help from someone she doesn’t entirely trust.Mark Jefferson has been receiving letters from the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City begging him to present a showcase of new material. But, as much as he wants to accept, he feels as though he doesn’t have anything impressive enough to unveil for his official comeback. He needs a muse that would be as willing as him to get the perfect shot.Enter stage left: the radiant Rachel Amber.*this not dark room creep MJ.
Relationships: Rachel Amber & Chloe Price, Rachel Amber & Mark Jefferson, Rachel Amber & Nathan Prescott, Rachel Amber & Victoria Chase, Rachel Amber/Chloe Price, Rachel Amber/Mark Jefferson, Rachel Amber/Nathan Prescott, Rachel Amber/Victoria Chase
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. Autographs

# 

## Chapter 1

  


### ”Autographs”

Rachel was frustrated. Her face didn’t look frustrated. Her body didn’t look frustrated. She didn’t even talk like she was frustrated. In fact, Rachel was currently draped over a slick tombstone like an arching feline. Her back was melting on Elizabeth Mittle’s grave (whoever that was) as icy rain drops were pelting her face. Mascara was running down her cheeks and she was trying to not sniffle. Her mouth was open just enough to convey a sense of longing or desire. Just the bottoms of her teeth could be seen like a sword peeking from its sheath. Her legs itched from her cut-off short strings slithering along her thighs. Her feet were pushing into the cold and grimy soil as she pressed harder to achieve what she wanted. She took in another breath and tried to hood her even eyes more. She imagined that she was waiting for some man to come find her. Her lover. Her lover that she could barely contain herself while she waited for him to show up in the Arcadia Bay Cemetery since their love was forbidden.  


_Click._  


_Click._  


“Rachel, that’s beautiful,” Nathan purred. He was laying on the wet ground and smiling. In his hands were a ridiculously expensive digital camera. But also in his hands, which Rachel willed herself to believe, was her ticket out of Arcadia Bay.  


“Just a few more, just like that,” Nathan encouraged.  


Rachel furrowed her eyebrows and pretended that she could barely wait any longer for this pretend-lover to arrive. But she also pretended that she didn’t find Nathan creepy and that this entire thing felt borderline ridiculous.  


_BOOM!_  


Rachel jumped at the rib-rattling roar of thunder.  


Nathan jumped up and shouted, “Okay! Let’s go! We got it! It’s getting too crazy out here!”  


Rachel gladly scrambled up as they rushed to Nathan’s new red truck.  


She dodged through the soggy dirt and as they ran he unlocked the doors. Rachel went to grab her door handle, but Nathan yanked it open first. A squirm of annoyance wiggled down her spine.  


Nathan raced over to his side, hurled himself into the driver’s seat and started the car. He looked over at Rachel and yelled, “Get in! It’s freezing outside!”  


The last thing Rachel wanted to do was spend even more time with Nathan, especially in a private confined space. She hesitated. “Can I see the shot?”  


_BOOM!_  


“What?” Nathan cried.  


The rain was now a curtain of cold jeweled crystals. Each drop angrily boring into the car.  


Rachel had a decision. As much as she did not want to spend time with Nathan, he did have in his hand all their hours of hard work. If she grabbed her shoes, ditched him and called Chloe to come get her, he could delete them. Rachel huffed internally, but instead forced a gentle expression on her face.  


She hauled herself into the heated cab and slammed the door. She started to wring out her hair on the floor and asked playfully, “Can you take me home? It’s a straight shot.”  


Nathan did not seem bothered at all that Rachel just rudely dumped a bucket of water all over his cloth interior. Instead, his mouth was curled into a smile. With a lighter voice, he uttered, “You are beautiful,” he then shook his head, let out a small manic laugh and corrected, “I meant, you were beautiful. The pictures were beautiful.” He continued to stare after the words hung in the air.  


Rachel wanted to push herself against the quickly fogging window, but instead leaned forward. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing a clumpy white wet feather earring and said, “Oh yeah?” as she raised an eyebrow.  


Nathan’s cheeks flushed red. “O-oh yeah.”  


The heat brushed against both of their cheeks. With shaking hands, Nathan started showing Rachel the photos. She was pleasantly surprised. For as stupid as she felt, for as annoyed as she felt with Nathan wriggling stupidly around on the ground, for as frustrated as she felt that she was wasting her time once again, she finally felt like she was wrong. In Nathan’s monochromatic camera, he had somehow caught a visceral rawness of Rachel looking desperate, yet desirable. Rachel had thought the cemetery shoot was weird and almost cliché, but instead, there was a somehow symbolic realness to it of her young body overtaking an ancient set of bones. And in the last shot, Nathan had just started to capture the lightning bolt. A balloon of excitement surged in Rachel. This may actually be it. This may be the series that gets her out of Arcadia Bay. Throwing herself at Nathan had worked.  


“So, once I get into Photoshop, I am going to clean it up some and maybe add some effects to enhance it,” Nathan rambled nervously.  


Rachel leaned back and titled her head slightly back, “But Nathan, you already did such a great job with these original shots. Are you saying what I did on the first take isn’t good enough?” Rachel smirked.  


He shook his head quickly and explained, “No, no, no! These are incredible, but all shots need cleaning up. I want them to be perfect for you.” Nathan then looked down at his camera and put it away.  


Rachel let out a small confident laugh, “Okay, okay. So when will these amazing shots be done?”  


Nathan had his hands on the steering wheel and turned to face her. His expression was sober. “Tomorrow. I’ll have them for you tomorrow. I promise.”  


Rachel wanted to reel at the desperation, but instead said, “I bow to your wisdom Prescott-Camera-Master. But will that be enough time?”  


Nathan nodded his head and inched closer, “More than enough. Like I said; you--I meant, the shots are beautiful. It won’t take much. Just a few adjustments to the noise and shadows.”  


Rachel smiled, leaned closer and purred, “I can’t wait to see what magic you can work.” She let her fingers lightly grave his arm.  


His blue eyes grew larger and looked down at where she had touched him. However, when he glanced back up, Rachel was already resting against the window, aiming the heat from the vents onto her.  


Nathan immediately sputtered, “Do you want to eat at Two Whales before I take you home?”  


Rachel continued to adjust the vents and bent into them, the hot air starting to ripple her drying white undershirt. Nathan’s eyes traveled down her body and blinked a few times.  


Rachel placed her hair next to the vents and turned to Nathan. With a sad smile, she said, “Nathan, I would love to, but I really want to get out of these wet clothes.”  


Nathan blushed and put the car in reverse, “Of course. Sorry.”  


Rachel laughed. “Nothing to be sorry about. Maybe another time?” she mused.  


Nathan pulled out of the cemetery and started onto the slick main road. Excitedly, he said, “When? I would love that. I can pick you up!” He hooted.  


A bubble of disgust raised in her throat. Rachel continued to dry herself and said, “A rain check?”  


Nathan laughed longer than he should have and hit his knee. “You’re too funny, Rachel. You really are!”  


Rachel looked out the window and rolled her eyes. She then turned back to him and said, “You’re not too bad yourself, Prescott.”  
Nathan blushed.  


Rachel turned on the radio and contemplated, “Now let’s see what you listen to.”  


Nathan started talking, but instead Rachel turned up the music. It was rap music, which she felt was unexpected for Nathan, but regardless she happily sung along to the chorus while being so thankful that she didn’t have to talk to him anymore. Nathan did try to take a few more stabs at a conversation, however Rachel pretended not to hear him. She was tired of pretending and just wanted to go home and be alone.  


When Nathan pulled up to her house, she thanked him and hurriedly exited the truck. She couldn’t wait until the day when she would get paid for doing photo shoots.  


With her red Converses in her hand, she dashed to the front door in the still pouring rain. She let herself in and was thankful to see her Dad had jazz music playing with his office doors shut and her mom was nowhere to be found. Rachel quickly snuck up the stairs and headed straight to the bathroom.  


After a refreshing hot shower (where she watched the dirt suck down the drain, which to her, felt symbolic as being her repulsion to Nathan), Rachel settled into her bedroom to finish her homework due the next day, Monday. She usually spent most Sundays doing homework or practicing for the play, but Nathan really wanted to do the shoot in the rain and Sunday held the forecast for rain and Saturday did not. She turned on some indie rock and stared at her desk. Dozens of envelopes were spread on the desk. The older ones had addresses from New York City and Los Angels, then the newer ones were from Seattle and Portland. Each envelope had been carefully opened and each letter had been crisp with perfectly typed letters. And each one said the same thing: “Thank you for submitting your portfolio, however we are not accepting new models at this time.” Reading these sentences over and over again infuriated Rachel. She knew they were accepting new models “at this time,” but they didn’t want to hire _her_ as new model “at this time.”  


And why the hell not!? She tried the basic headshots that everyone said she needed. Rejected. She tried more poses, but still staying in the basic headshot requirements. Rejected. She tried unique locations (well as Arcadia Bay allowed, which were railroad tracks, the junk yard, the ocean, the lighthouse, and the diner). Rejected. She decided to ask good photographers at Blackwell (with the exception of Victoria Chase, who Rachel knew would sabotage her) like Evan Harris. Rejected. Finally, she decided to ask Nathan Prescott, who although his style was decidedly disturbing, he would definitely help her make a statement. And if this didn’t work, she felt her options were slipping away as if she was trying to crawl up a lubricated rope.  


She shoved all the envelopes off the desk and onto the floor. She was tempted to burn them, however she felt as though she may need them one day. She imagined that after she made it big, that she could show interviewers all the model agencies that rejected her in the beginning and smugly saying, “aren’t-they-sorry-now?” That was the only reason she didn’t light the entire stack on fire.  


Rachel started to pull out her books, but before diving in, she checked her phone. Multiple messages were waiting from her, but the only ones she really cared about were from Chloe.

**11:06 am Chloe:** “Hey, are you still out with that creep?”  
**1:22 pm Chloe:** “Please tell me he didn’t kill you lol.”  
**3:42 pm Chloe:** “Hey, are you still coming over after you’re done?”

Rachel looked at the time: 5:25 pm. She knew Chloe would be pissed, but texted. “Hey, so sorry. It went longer than I thought. I just got home. But I think the pics are really good. And yes, he is still a creep.”

She waited a few minutes as she began to look over her planner, when her phone went off.  
**5:29 pm Chloe:** “Fine. I have my own people to hang out with.”

Rachel groaned and looked up at the ceiling. That was the thing with Chloe. If she didn’t get her way, then the guilt trip came. Rachel decided not to respond. She was too tired for this at the moment and she had a math test the next day.  
Rachel muted her phone, turned up the music and got to work.

*****************************************

It was the end of September and everything was beautiful. Rachel loved the scent of the crisp fall air, burning leaves and watching the reds, yellows and oranges intensify. Rachel tightened the scarf around her neck and wore a simple beanie: one of Chloe’s.  


She knew Chloe normally liked to bring her to school, but today Rachel wanted to walk and not deal with Chloe’s drama this morning. She sipped hot cider that her mom brewed fresh and her heart fluttered in her chest. She watched small leaves twirl in the air and people put out the yet to be mutilated pumpkins on their front porches. Not only was it a perfect autumn day, but she could feel it was going to be a good day. She never thought that she would think this, but she was actually excited to see Nathan. No, wait. That wasn’t right. She was excited to see the photos that Nathan took. Not Nathan. He still revolted her. But she knew, she could feel it, that these pictures would finally be the key to getting her out of Arcadia Bay.  


It took Rachel about 15 minutes to walk to school and when she arrived, other students were hanging out and talking. She made her greetings, but did not talk. She was meeting Nathan at one of the picnic tables in front of school. She had beat him there and could barely contain her delight.  


As she sat and waited, she was able to see inside the photography lab window. She could make out Victoria Chase talking enthusiastically to Mr. Jefferson. Rachel simpered. Victoria was so desperate and each time they spoke, Mr. Jefferson ignored her sycophancy. Victoria didn’t understand that when someone acts submissive, it gives the other party all the power. The key was to offer something in return for their services. Maybe Victoria had offered a sexual favor (Rachel wouldn’t put it past her), but even if so, was that really enough for Mr. Jefferson to risk his job and reputation? She doubted it. Given how wealthy and incredibly famous Mr. Jefferson was, Rachel felt pretty sure that Mr. Jefferson would not have a relationship with a student would who not be able to keep her mouth shut. He seemed wise enough to realize that if things went poorly, a student could blackmail him. No, what would work with Mr. Jefferson was a fair-trade where if there were risks, both people would equally be at risk and both people would equally benefit if things went well. Whereas Victoria represented maximum risks and minimum benefits.  


Rachel took another sip of her cider and smirked. She loved analyzing people and it gave her great satisfaction to—  


“Hey,” Nathan breathlessly said.  


Rachel turned to face him and forced her features to soften. In his hands were pastries: A pumpkin muffin and maple scone. “Why hello. I see you bring me great gifts,” Rachel observed.  


Nathan quickly sat down. “Which one do you want? I wasn’t sure, so I got both.” His hands trembled.  


Rachel reached for the still-warm maple scone. “Thank you very much, Nathan Prescott.” She took a nibble. The dough dissolved in her mouth reminding her of fresh pancakes.  


Nathan did not touch his pumpkin muffin.  


Instead, he was sitting across from Rachel with his mouth agape. His brilliant blue eyes were transfixed by Rachel.  


Rachel swallowed. The scone no longer tasted good. “So, do you have the photos Photoshop Master?”  


Nathan jerked and sputtered, “Oh! Yes!” He almost ripped his book bag as he dug through it frantically and placed a manila envelope on the wooden and splintering table.  


Rachel’s eyes widened and her stomach shot into her lungs. She grabbed the envelope and began pulling out the photos.  


Nathan stuttered, “I did the best I could. I mean, they are the best. But, I dunno, maybe I could have fixed some things. But, you’re already so beautiful in them, I meant the photos are already so beautiful, and I may have got carried away, I—“  


Rachel was mesmerized. The photos looked surreal. Almost like a fairy tale. He had added mist and black birds. Rachel’s face was enhanced with deepening shadows. The lightning was more pronounced. Something appeared to be lurking in the mist. The water was sharpened and it looked wetter than before.  


These were it. These were the shots that would finally land Rachel a modeling agency contract. She was holding in her hands her way out of Arcadia Bay.  


Rachel shot up and hugged Nathan. She gave him a peck on his cold cheek and whispered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”  


Nathan was left obtunded with a slack smile on his face.  


Rachel picked up her belongings from the table with the photos in hand. “I’ve got to go to class for my math test, but I’ll talk to you soon! Thanks so much, Nathan!” she shouted as she sprinted across the courtyard.  


Nathan merely waved, still grinning.  


Rachel started her way to her math class, almost bumping into people in the halls, but her eyes were unfocused. She was dizzy with glee.  


Right before she pushed the doors open to go upstairs to her math class, she passed by Victoria fawning over Mr. Jefferson in the hallway. His back was to her, but she saw Victoria handing him some photos.  


“Look these over and let me know what you think. I know you know best and then I could change them to whatever you suggest,” Victoria practically slurred. “You are one of the most famous photographers in the world, after all.”  


Rachel kept walking. Victoria was so stupid.

*****************************************

Rachel was siting in her math class and was counting down the minutes until she was done. She had finished 15 minutes early and now all she could do was wait. She wondered if she should re-submit these photos to some of the more prestigious modeling agencies. She knew not to flood them with too many submissions. But she really really really wanted to know if they would accept her now. She was itching to leave Arcadia Bay and waiting seemed stupid when she was almost certain that these would get her in.  


She wanted to take the photos out and look at them some more, but she knew that was not allowed since other people were trying to finish their tests. She tapped her foot.  


Rachel looked over and saw Victoria still working. Her blonde hair glimmering in the fall morning light. She studied her perfectly ironed collar, her pill-free sweater (no doubt cashmere), her opaque black tights with no runs, her straight socks that had similar maroon and yellow colors that matched her sweater and collar, and finally her shoes. Rachel felt as though shoes said a lot about a person. If they the shoes are well worn and scuffed: practical and frugal. If they are well worn, but scuff-free: practical, frugal and type A personality. If they are new, but cheap-looking: obsessed with appearance, but unable to afford the newest fashions. And finally if they are well-worn, the designs have immaculate attention to detail and high quality material: obsessed with appearance and able to afford the newest fashions. This last category was Victoria. And Rachel respected her for it.  


Victoria suddenly stood up, turned in her test and waltzed back to her desk. She gave Rachel a frigid smile and twirled back down into her seat.  


Not too bad. _She finished 5 minutes after me_ , Rachel thought.  


But then another idea struck Rachel. Maybe Victoria was smarter than she gave her credit for. Victoria was obviously a perfectionist and Rachel didn’t doubt that Victoria would become successful one day. World famous? No. Locally famous? Sure.  


But asking for a second opinion on her work, much less a world famous second opinion, was smart.  


Rachel knew what she needed to do. She needed to ask Mr. Jefferson about his thoughts on the photographs Nathan took. Rachel thought they looked amazing. But Mr. Jefferson knew a lot more about photography than her and if she was going to risk re-submitting her portfolio to prestigious model agencies, then she had better be sure that it would get her in. She had class twice a week with him (basic Introduction to Photography, nothing like the class Victoria was in), but it was a start.  


To ask him, she needed to get him alone. And she wasn’t asking for a lot. She was just asking for his opinion, which wasn’t like a trade or anything; nothing like a Victoria scenario where he could end up in a compromising situation. Rather, Rachel would appeal to his ego and then he would help her. It was as simple as that and for Rachel that would be easy.  


The day slugged by. Rachel thought she could catch Mr. Jefferson at lunch, but he was teaching a class, which felt frustrating. She resigned to meeting him after class. She didn’t really want to do that because it seemed to imply the same things that Victoria wanted with him, but it also would give her more time with him.  


Chloe had texted her apologizing finally. She asked if Rachel wanted to hang out after school at the junk yard. Chloe said she would pick up some food and they would meet around 6 pm. Rachel agreed and was honestly relived that her and Chloe had made up. She missed her and she really wanted to show her the photographs. She was curious would think and since they planned on leaving together, it would really brighten Chloe’s day. She loved seeing her smile.  


As the last bell rang, signaling class was over, Rachel tidied her hair and blue feather earring, and tried to casually walked up to Mr. Jefferson who was standing by his desk. The sunlight casted a warm glow in the room and the red and orange trees outside made it look like the world was on fire. Rachel knew that this color would bring out her hazel eyes which she hoped to use to her advantage.  


Mr. Jefferson looked up and smiled. “Rachel Amber. How can I help you today?”  


Rachel pushed her shoulders back and unleashed a dazzling smile. “I am here to seek your professional and world-renowned advice, Mr. Jefferson.”  


Mr. Jefferson chuckled. “Okay, okay. Advice on what?”  


Rachel titled her head. “Well, I was wondering if you could look over some photos for me? I am submitting them to a modeling agency and to be honest, I haven’t had much luck. In fact, this will be my second time to send them in and I want to make sure they’re perfect. And since I have Mr. Jefferson at my fingertips, I figured you could give me your professional opinion so I can do whatever I need to to make them better.”  


Mr. Jefferson remarked, “I see.”  


“Why yes, Mr. Jefferson. You’re the world-renowned expert and I am the naïveté in the world of photography, so I figured you would know best.”  


Mr. Jefferson held out his hand. “Well, let’s see what you have.”  


Rachel nervously pulled the manila envelope out of her book bag and pulled the photos out. She handed him the stack.  


As Mr. Jefferson started looking at them, Rachel realized she was holding her breath. She made a point to steady herself. He was just giving his opinion. If she wanted to succeed, she needed it.  


Mr. Jefferson frowned and titled his head. Without looking at Rachel, he asked bluntly, “Who took these?”  


Rachel felt her voice nearly choke, but caught herself. Instead, she leaned her hip against the desk and said, “Nathan Prescott.”  


Mr. Jefferson made a small grunt and continued with brows furrowing. He inspected each photo; titling it in the light and moving it closer to his face.  


Rachel bit her lip.  


He put down the photos and stared directly at Rachel.  


Rachel realized how much taller he was than her and resisted the desire to step back. She folded her arms and beamed expectantly. “Well?”  


“Can I have a few days to look over them and get back to you?” Mr. Jefferson asked, his face decidedly neutral.  


“Of course,” Rachel replied. Of course, she did not want to wait. She wanted answers now, but she also knew not to push her luck.  


Mr. Jefferson nodded and said, “Thank you.”  


Rachel wanted to ask who would contact who and when, but decided that it was best to try to appeal to his ego one more time before leaving. “You’re the worth the wait,” she complimented. “I look forward from hearing what you think.” And with that, she waltzed out of the room and into the hallway to play practice. It was only then she realized that Mr. Jefferson had the photos and she had none of them. The only others were with Nathan and she did not want to ask him for them knowing it would lead to more than just a simple request. She gritted her teeth and kept walking. All she could do now was wait.  


On Tuesday, she only caught a glimpse of Mr. Jefferson teaching class. He was nowhere to be found after school. Even Victoria looked lost without him.  


However, Nathan was everywhere to be found. He called multiple times during the day. Which Rachel ignored. At school, she apologized to him and said she as busy. He seemed undeterred.  


On Wednesday, Chloe drove her to school. Rachel had wanted to walk again to maybe catch Mr. Jefferson before classes started, but she knew it meant a lot to Chloe to drive her and Rachel didn’t feel quite ready to tell Chloe about her asking Mr. Jefferson’s opinion until she knew the outcome.  


At school, Nathan tried to meet her in between each class. Rachel faked interest and hoped he’d leave her alone soon. He was talking about their upcoming “date” to Two Whales, which made Rachel nauseated. She did see Mr. Jefferson in between a class talking to Victoria. Rachel didn’t want to look over eager, so instead she decided to leisurely walk past him while nonchalantly looking at her phone. This way if he was ready to reach out, he would call her name and if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t.  


She strolled past with hands trembling while texting Chloe. He said nothing.  


After school, he wasn’t in the classroom and Rachel did not want drape herself into his office or worst, walk in and find a sneering Victoria in there.  


On Thursday morning, Mr. Jefferson was walking a little in front of Rachel. She wanted to greet him, but instead decided to pick up her pace and “accidentally” run into him. As she neared him, Mr. Jefferson was startled. “Hey, Rachel!”  


Rachel smiled and returned, “Nice seeing you, Mr. Jefferson. It’s been awhile.”  


Mr. Jefferson chuckled. “It has. Have you worked on the assignment for Friday?”  


Rachel felt irritated that he talked about his homework for her over her homework for him. She responded, “Already done. Did you work on the assignment that I gave you?”  


Mr. Jefferson’s phone rang. He looked down at the caller ID and said, “I’m really sorry, but I have to take this. I’ll see you in class tomorrow!” He walked into his classroom, shut the door behind him as muffled voices were slowly silenced.  


Rachel seethed and spun around to go to the courtyard for some fresh air.  


Once outside, she took out a black lighter and flickered it on and off, staring at the tiny fire. Her pulse and respirations slowed. She stared at the blue flame and told herself that she was like this flame. No matter how many times it flickered out, she would keep finding the energy and igniter fluid to keep shining. She would get out of Arcadia Bay to be a star even if it killed her.  


Friday came and the entire day she felt like she had a bubbling spring of anxiety and excitement in her chest. She jiggled her leg during classes, spent too long looking at her phone in the bathroom so she could hide from Nathan, and was pretty sure she did poorly on her biology test because she was so distracted for her final class of the day; Introduction to Photography.  


When the bell rang for her last period, she sauntered in attempting to look uninterested. She made a point to laugh with her friends and flip her hair, outright ignoring Mr. Jefferson sitting a few feet from her. However, even though on the outside, she was a cool crisp winter night with dazzling starts, she was actually on the inside, a booming and blinding fourth of July fireworks show with humidity, heat, and chaos.  


Mr. Jefferson asked the students to settle down and started teaching. He droned on about Alfred Hitchcock. Rachel was bored, but pretended to be interested. He talked about how Hitchcock did not have the ability of special effects and high budgets of movies today, but he worked with what he had and what he saw, the audience saw as well. Mr. Jefferson described him as a true artist.  


After that, Rachel had no idea what he said and didn’t care. She doodled and practiced her autograph.  


The bell rang. Rachel grabbed her things and marched over to his desk.  


“Mr. Jefferson?” she asked. She no longer was concerned about looking desperate. She wanted answers and more importantly, she did not want to go into the weekend without these answers.  


Mr. Jefferson turned around and beamed, “Rachel! Thank you for being so patient. Is now a good time to discuss your photos?”  


“Yes,” Rachel said a little quicker than she liked. She pushed her shoulders back.  
“Great.”  


Mr. Jefferson pulled the photos out of his inner pocket from his black blazer. He put them down on the desk and looked at Rachel over his glasses. He asked seriously, “So, you really want my honest opinion?”  


Rachel crossed her arms and said slyly, “I’ve waited this long, haven’t I?”  


Mr. Jefferson let out a sigh and stated, “Terrible.”  


Rachel recoiled like she’d been slapped. Did he not see all the work she put in and Nathan? Rachel asked defensively, “You think I could have done better?”  


Mr. Jefferson was staring down at the photos. With a clipped voice, he said, “No.” He then looked up at Rachel. His expression softened and he said, “You deserve better.”  


Rachel opened her mouth, but the words escaped her. She was expecting more criticism, but she was not expecting that. Rachel narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”  


Mr. Jefferson straightened up, took off his glasses, pulled out a handkerchief and started cleaning the lenses. “How badly do you want to succeed? Would you be doing anything for it? Even if it involved risking your life?”  


“Yes,” Rachel affirmed.  


Mr. Jefferson put his glasses back on and crossed his arms. “I thought about this all week and decided to ask you something. What would you say you to help me with a project? It must be done under complete secrecy and it will be extremely difficult for both of us, but I can promise you, it will make you famous. You will never need to submit another portfolio to a modeling agency again because after this project, every agency in the world will be begging for you. It will open every opportunity you could ever want for yourself. But if you agree to do this with me, you cannot go back on your word. Once you commit to it, you have to stay with it. Do you understand?”  


Rachel could no longer feel her fingers. Her heart was beating loudly in her ears. She felt that the sunlight around Mr. Jefferson was intensifying. Rachel opened her mouth and breathed, “yes.”  


Mr. Jefferson walked past her to his desk and sat down.  


Rachel turned, looked down still smelling his earthy cologne, forced herself to focus and ventured, “What kind of project is this?”  


Mr. Jefferson pulled out a stack of papers. He casually started flipping through them. “I have been offered time and time again to put on an exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art”—  


Rachel’s eyes widened. “In New York City?”  


Mr. Jefferson nodded and he licked his fingers. “That one. It would be like my ‘comeback’ collection and I have refused over and over because I felt like I didn’t have anything to say. Any work strong enough to put out there. Now that didn’t mean that I didn’t have ideas or make plans, but something was always missing. It never felt right.”  


Rachel was tempted to interject, however, her gut said to shut up and listen. So instead, she bent closer.  


“Here it is.” Mr. Jefferson pulled out a packet of papers. He then looked up at Rachel and explained, “But with you. If you let me, I think we might be able to create a beautiful work of art. You are extremely talented, as am I, and together we could make history. What do you say?”  


Rachel’s stomach felt like it was floating. She smiled and laughed, “Of course!”  


Mr. Jefferson grinned. “Okay, if you want to do this, which again, it will be extremely difficult and dangerous, then here is the paperwork to start.”  


Rachel wrinkled her forehead. “Paperwork?”  


Mr. Jefferson gestured for her to sit in a chair and come to the desk. Once settled, Mr. Jefferson stated, “The first thing you want to know is that paperwork is your lifeblood in Hollywood. Get used to it. I took the past week to draw some up with my lawyer in case you decided you would be interested in doing the project.” Mr. Jefferson then pushed her the papers.  


Rachel started reading it. There was talk about a non-disclosure agreement clause where if she told anyone, she would be sued. There was an area about how she had to accept dangerous conditions to her well-being and possibly could experience death. There was another about how she had to be available to Mr. Jefferson 24/7 for the duration of the project. And finally, there was one about how if she backed out of the project after signing on or broke any of these agreements she would be fined—  


”2.5 million dollars?” Rachel asked, exasperated.  


Mr. Jefferson was now inspecting a camera and shrugged. “That’s how much money I will lose if you back out of the project. So, yes. You will owe me 2.5 million dollars if you break your agreement.”  


Rachel was at a loss for words. She nervously tucked a piece of hair behind her ear while letting her fingers graze over her blue feather earring. It calmed her.  


Mr. Jefferson put the camera down and leaned across the desk. “Rachel, I don’t expect you to sign this today. Now, you legally can because you’re 18, but I strongly recommend you take this home to your dad, who is a lawyer, a very good lawyer, to look over it before you sign. It’s ironclad.”  


Rachel pretended to look over it more. Her brain racing, she set it down and met Mr. Jefferson’s gaze. “How long is this agreement good for?”  


“Bottom paragraph,” Mr. Jefferson pointed at the section.  


Rachel looked down and saw that the dates were missing. “So, indefinite?”  


Mr. Jefferson laughed. “God, no. It would be from today until the exhibit ends.”  


Rachel narrowed her eyes, “And when is that?”  


Mr. Jefferson leaned back in his chair. “Exhibit is at the end of May and then you’d be free.”  


“That’s not too bad,” she pondered. She then smiled. “So, a short term relationship?”  


“Short term indeed,” Mr. Jefferson agreed.  


Rachel reached out her hand. “I’m ready to sign.”  


Mr. Jefferson raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure? I recommend you take the weekend to think this over and have your dad”—  


“I need a pen,” Rachel stated confidently.  


“Give me the contract first so I can fill in the dates. After I do that, I will initial and then you will too with today’s date, okay?”  


Rachel slid Mr. Jefferson the contract and they both wrote the necessary information and exchanged personal contact information with each other.  


“Are you sure? Because once you do, your time is mine.” Mr. Jefferson maintained.  


“Just give me the contract. I am sure,” Rachel said frustrated.  


Mr. Jefferson slid it back to her and watched her sign her name.  


Rachel tried to hide the fact that her fingers were shaking. Once done, she emphasized, “There. My time is yours.”  


She stood up and grabbed her belongings. Smiling, arched her eyebrow, looked down her shoulder at a very amused Mr. Jefferson and said, “When do we start?”  


Mr. Jefferson smugly smirked and said, “Tomorrow after 6 pm. We will meet at the lighthouse.”  


Rachel opened her mouth and stopped. “I have play practice tomorrow. I’m the lead, surely you won’t make me miss that? My people need me,” she made a dramatic gesture with her hand.  


Mr. Jefferson leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, you’ll need to miss that practice and to be honest, you need to quit the play all together. You won’t have time for it anymore.”  


Heat flooded Rachel’s cheeks. Abruptly feeling foolish and exasperated, she demanded, “What do I tell everyone if I can’t tell anyone about this secret project?”  


Mr. Jefferson shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t care. Whatever works for you.”  


Rachel’s body stiffened and her fingers burned into her palms. “But opening night is only two weeks away, what will they do?” Rachel’s stomach churned at the idea of Victoria lurking from understudy to beaming star.  


Mr. Jefferson stood up and walked up to Rachel. He leaned in close and smiled. “Rachel, at the end of May, you will be signing contracts for movies. Forget the play. They’ll be fine without you. You’ll be fine without them. Trust me.”  


Rachel glanced nervously out the window. People were enjoying their Friday, reading books and laughing, having no idea that a few feet from them someone’s life was on the axis of change. She nodded her head. Not at all liking where this was going, but feeling like she had no choice in the matter, she conceded, “Okay.”  


Mr. Jefferson radiated joy. “There you go! In a two weeks, you won’t even remember the play.”  


Rachel turned her back and started limping away like a retreating solider, her heart thudding in her temples. However, she lurched to a stop at the doorway and with gritted teeth, she called, “By the way, what’s the concept for tomorrow?”  


“Don’t worry.” Mr. Jefferson said, “You’re going to hate it.”


	2. The Audition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After inking a deal with the devil in Chapter 1, Rachel must convince Chloe to help her lie to everyone, while she tried to outwit the mysterious Mr. Jefferson during their first photoshoot together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a non-dark room Mr. Jefferson

# Melt Weather

## Chapter 2

### "The Audition"

_The Junkyard._  


_The Junkyard._  


_The Junkyard._

**5:09 pm Rachel:** The Junkyard. Now.  


**5:10 pm Chloe:** what’s going on?  


**5:12 pm Rachel:** I’ll explain when you get here. Just come now.  


**5:12 pm Chloe:** on my way

Wind rippled Rachel’s hair. Her earring fluttered against her face like a gnat. Grey clouds crept over the blue skies. But all Rachel could see was a trembling vision of red. She had no idea how she got to the junkyard. She remembered texting Juliet to tell her she was too sick for play practice and then she was somehow at the junkyard. Did she walk there? Did she take a bus to drop her off close by? Did she hitchhike?  


She didn’t know. She didn’t care.  


The only thing she cared about was the urge to destroy something. Now.  


Rachel roared. She tore into the junkyard. She ripped up planks of wood and started a pile. Empty oil barrels tumbled over. Signs snapped back nearly hitting her in the face. Branches ripped from innocent trees. Crates slammed into the heap of wood. She screamed with hungry hands. A rusting fire poker. It was in her hand. She swung it around. It stabbed a lone car seat over and over again. Until only the interior and coils remained. Rachel gashed papers from the hangout. They were stuffed under the enormous pile of lumber. The black lighter appeared and infuriately slow, the fire grew. Soon, it was a thunderous bonfire. Rachel speared it with the poker for good measure.  


The heat seared her face. She stepped closer with gritted teeth. She suddenly screamed and fell onto her knees on the cold dirt. The tears came and then she was gasping for air. She sobbed and loathed herself. How could she be so stupid? She was caught in his trap. But why was she so upset? Wasn’t this what she wanted? A way out? A way to make her dreams come true? But not like this. Not on his terms. She didn’t even know if she was getting paid. Was this what being famous meant? She’d have to sell her soul? She won the prize. But it didn’t matter. Nothing matter. She had been tricked, played and humiliated. And there was no way out. It didn’t matter how clever she was. She was tied to Mr. Jefferson for better or worse until the end of May. She hated herself. She was no better than Victoria. She felt actually dumber than Victoria. Her desperation had blinded her. She should’ve had her dad look over the contract first. Proposed changes. What had she been thinking? But what was worse of all was that she could tell no one. Not even Chloe. How would she do this on her own? What would she tell Mr. Keaton? Her parents? She was all alone and vulnerable. Just how Mr. Jefferson wanted her. And she hated him. She wanted to sabotage this stupid project. Ruin his “comeback.” But she knew that if she did that, she would ruin her own introduction into the spotlight. Like a fox running from the hounds, she had in a panic looked back, tripped and been caught.  


"Oh my God,” Chloe gasped.  


Rachel looked up at her with a tear-stained and swollen face.  


“What the fuck happened to you? And get back from the fire! You’re way too close!” 

Chloe started to pull Rachel’s shoulders away from the flames, but she resisted.  


“Stop,” Rachel argued. She liked the heat. It kept her mind off this disaster of a situation. Screw the danger.  


Chloe raised her hands in defeat, paused, and then sat down by Rachel. She slid her armaround her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”  


Rachel leaned into Chloe and hid her face in her shoulder. She smelled like cigarettes and green apples. Rachel took a stuttering breath. “I can’t say.”  


Chloe released Rachel and asked suspiciously, “What do you mean you ‘can’t say’?” She narrowed her eyes as her nostrils flared. “Did someone do something to you?”  


Rachel shook her head and wiped her tears away. “No, I did something stupid.” Rachel realized this could sound as if she did something stupid relating to their relationship and amended, “I did something stupid to myself. Nothing with us.”  


Chloe relaxed and gently grasped Rachel’s wrists. “Tell me. I’m here for you.” Her face was crumpled with unease.  


Rachel looked away and watched the flames dance. She closed her eyes and focused on the warmness against her skin. How would she phrase this? How could she tell Chloe something that she couldn’t? She needed her. She loved her. She hated hiding things from her like she had in the past. She refused to make that mistake again.  


Rachel sighed and looked back at Chloe. Her blue hair was surrounded by the embers creating a serene halo effect. She was so beautiful. Rachel hated to hurt her, but she had no choice. “Chloe, I love you. You know that, right?”  


“I love you too. Now tell me what’s going on.” She squeezed Rachel’s wrists tighter.  


“I did something really dumb. I didn’t realize it was stupid at the time, but I can’t change it now.” Rachel was looking down. With anyone else, Rachel would maintain eye contact and try to gauge how someone was feeling before she opened up like this. But with Chloe, it was different. She didn’t have to pretend.  


“Why can’t you change it?” Chloe probed.  


“Because I signed a binding legal contract. I can’t get out of it and I can’t tell anyone about it or else I will be sued for a lot of money, Chloe,” Rachel explained. “I was an idiot.”  


Chloe reared her head back and shouted, “That’s bullshit! If your dad can’t get you out of it, then just have him pay it and you’ll be done!”  


Rachel looked into her blue eyes. “Chloe, it’s for 2.5 million dollars. No one in Arcadia Bay has that much money.” However, Rachel could think of one person who might. She brushed away the thought.  


Chloe’s face wrinkled into confusion. She whispered, “2.5 million dollars? Rachel, what the fuck would you sign your life away for 2.5 million dollars?”  


Rachel stiffened and defended, “Chloe, it’s to get us out of Arcadia Bay and get my acting career started. It was my only option.”  


Chloe raised her eyebrows. “You’re ‘only option’? Did you forget that you’re the Rachel Fucking Amber?! You have all the options in the world!”  


Rachel stood up and flayed her hands out. “Chloe, I’ve been rejected from every modeling agency. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity and I took it. Okay?! I can’t change it now!” Rachel paced and tried to calm her breathing. She added, “And besides, it’s only until the end of May and then I’m done with it and we can leave forever.”  


Chloe stood and stepped closer to Rachel. “Until the end of May? That’s months away! Do you really think you can go on that long lying to everyone about this while this,” Chloe threw her hands up and spat, “thing destroys you?! Rachel, this is too fucked up!”  


Rachel’s heartbeat snarled in her ears. “Chloe, it’s not that long! I’d have to be in school anyways. Might as well get my diploma and start my career at the same time.”  


Chloe put her hands on her head and spun around. “I don’t get it! Why wouldn’t you talk to me about this first? At least your piece of shit dad? Why the fuck would you just sign your life away without talking to someone first?”  


Rachel knew why. Because Chloe and her dad would have told her not to sign it. And as angry as she was about the situation, she knew she in the long run that she would be angrier at herself if she didn’t do it and someone else did. Rachel stammered, “Because, because, I just did and now I can’t change it. It’s done and over with and now we have to figure out what to do next.”  


Chloe laughed coldly. She rolled her eyes and scoffed, “’We’?” Chloe walked closer and said, “’We’ have to figure out what to do next’? Are you fucking serious? You signed that thing without talking to me. What happened to us being a team? To us being in this together to get the hell out of Arcadia?”  


Rachel pulled away. Guilt breathed down her neck, but she continued to match Chloe’s gaze. “We are a team, Chloe. And I did this because it guarantees that you and me (we),” Rachel spit the last word. “Will get out of here. Because before I signed it, our chances of getting out and making it on our own in LA we’re going to be pretty slim.”  


Chloe smiled sarcastically and crossed her arms. “Yeah, right. Between you getting hush money from your dad and me working at”—Chloe looked up and huffed. She continued, “With my earnings from there, we were supposed to be gone and fine in LA by January. We agreed on that. But I sure as fuck didn’t agree to staying here, at Joyce’s and Step-Crack’s house in Hell, for another 5 months covering for you while you’re doing this secret mission bullshit.”  


Rachel knew she was right. By her signing that contract with Mr. Jefferson, she was breaking an even more important contract with Chloe. Rachel hung her head and attempted to soften her tone. “Chloe, I was wrong. I’ll admit to that. But I promise that what I did and will be doing is going to guarantee me jobs. We will be moving to LA because I already have a career lined up, not moving there hoping I get one. This sucks right now, but in the long run it’s what is best. For us. I promise.”  


Chloe looked away for a long time. Her face danced in light and shadows. Rachel watched her breathing slow and felt anxious that she may leave. Chloe finally clenched her jaw before saying, “You’re free at the end of May?”  


“Yes.”  


Chloe’s shoulders relaxed. She resigned, “Okay.” She then ended the distance between them and hugged Rachel. Rachel nuzzled her head into the crook of Chloe’s neck. “I’ll trust you. But are you sure you can’t tell me?”  


Rachel felt her eyes watering, and blinked the tears away. She tightened her arms around Chloe and whispered, “You know if I could, I would.”  


Chloe kissed her forehead.  


They stood like that for some time as they both listened to the crackling of the fire, feeling warm from it’s heat, but even more so from the rhythm of their own heartbeats. Night was crawling in with swirling clouds and a train could be heard crying in the distance. The world smelled of ash and a quickly approaching storm. Rachel shivered.  


“Chloe?” Rachel asked.  


“Mmhmm?” Chloe hummed.  


“I need your help.”  


Chloe let out a low chuckle. “I figured. There’s no way you could do this without me.”  


She laughed. “Shut up.”  


Chloe lightly touched her earring and smiled. “You know I’m right.”  


Rachel beamed and then said, “Seriously though, I’m going to need your help in figuring out how to hide this from everyone so no one finds out. But more urgently, since I have to quit the play, I need to figure out what to tell Mr. Keaton.”  


Chloe went rigid. Rachel dreaded the response. Chloe raised her voice. “What the fuck?! Why do you have to quit the play for this?!”  


Rachel groaned. Frustrated, she explained, “I just have to. I can’t say why, but I have to start on this project tomorrow, so I have to quit because I’ll no longer be able to go to practice.”  


Chloe glowered. “This is hella bullshit.”  


Rachel pleaded, “I can’t get out of this. I’m begging you to help me.”  


Chloe groaned. “It’s about to rain, it’s getting cold, we have to put out this fire so we don’t have a repeat of May 2010 and you want me to brainstorm on an empty stomach?”  


Rachel cocked her head. “Why, of course not, Chloe Price. I say that your beautiful girlfriend owes you dinner at wherever you would like.”  


“Okay, what about this fire you made? I’m not getting possibly arrested for arson, again,” Chloe droned. But she had a smudge of a smile creeping up her cheek.  


Small raindrops started pelting them from above. Rachel and Chloe exchanged a mischievous look. They instantly took off running to Chloe’s truck and Rachel felt an odd sense of Déjà vu that she was just doing this with Nathan almost a week ago.  


Once inside the cab, Chloe turned the car on and said, “Look, we’re not leaving here until I see the fire has been put out.”  


“Fair enough. It’s not like we have a history with fires.” Rachel winked. “Now tell me where you would like to go for dinner, my azure-haired beauty?”  


Chloe playfully pursed her lips. “Anywhere, but Two Whales.”  


Rachel struck out her hand. “I’ll shake on it.”  


Chloe grasped her hand and then recoiled. She grabbed Rachel’s hands to examine her palms. “What the fuck, dude? Why are your hands so messed up?”  


Rachel looked down and a burst of pain bloomed in her hands. Her palms were riddled with splinters and specks of blood. “Fuck. I guess it was from when I was getting all that wood to start that fire.”  


“Well, we can’t have the model fucking up her hands, now can we?” She retorted. Chloe then grabbed a bottle of vodka under the seat and her knife from her back pocket.  


Rachel tried to pull her hands away. “No, no, no! That’s going to burn and you can’t have your car smelling like alcohol.”  


Chloe gave her a dead stare. “Give them over.”  


Rachel made a dramatic sigh, but placed her hands in front of Chloe.  


“Besides, we can multi-task while we wait for the fire to go out.” Chloe gestured to the softening bonfire with her knife. She then opened the vodka bottle and held Rachel’s hands outside the window while she rinsed them and then her knife.  


Rachel grimaced.  


“Sorry,” Chloe apologized.  


Chloe brought Rachel’s hands back inside, rolled up the window, flipped on the little blue cab light and got to work.  


There was something so oddly sensual to Rachel watching Chloe delicately use a weapon to take care of her. The dim blue light made everything feel like a secret and that they were in their own little world where nothing could ever hurt them. She imagined sleeping in this cab as they traveled down to California and Chloe holding her in her arms. She would listen to her slowing breathing as she counted the stars outside wondering what the next day would hold for them.  


“Tell me you’re not going to sit there and watch me like a zombie,” Chloe said.  


Rachel felt her heart drip little droplets of warm gold. “It’s a nice view.”  


Chloe laughed. “You’re so full of shit.”  


“Maybe so, but you love it,” Rachel countered.  


“I do.”  


As Rachel smiled, she glanced outside to see that the fire was almost out. When would they be able to do this again? How often would she have to spend with Mr. Jefferson? Would Chloe remain this understanding for the duration of the project? Rachel doubted it. What about tomorrow? Clearing her throat, Rachel asked, “So, what should I tell Mr. Keaton about quitting the play?”  


Chloe let out a big breath. Sarcastically, she remarked, “That you quit?”  


“I can’t just quit, Chloe. I need a reason,” Rachel explained.  


“I know, I know,” Chloe mused as she continued to work her knife. “How about you say you want to focus on school?”  


Rachel shook her head. “That won’t work because everyone will know something’s up. They all know that there is no way I would just hand over the lead to Victoria. 

They’ll be asking questions, which is the exact opposite of what I need when I can’t tell anyone what I’m doing.”  


“Yeah, not even your girlfriend,” Chloe added with a little more venom than Rachel liked to hear.  


“Chloe,” Rachel warned.  


“I know, I know. Okay, why don’t you say you’re sick? Like you lost your voice or mono?” Chloe suggested.  


“For two weeks?” Rachel rebutted. “That’ll be pretty annoying and hard to pretend I can’t talk for that long.”  


Chloe snapped, “Then you don’t have to worry about telling anyone your secret.”  


Rachel said nothing.  


Chloe glanced up, her eyes glittering like deep sapphires in the blue light. “Sorry.”  


“It’s okay,” Rachel replied. She saw only a few embers were left of the bonfire. The rain continued as fog melted into dusk. “If you don’t want to help that’s okay.”  


“I’m sorry,” Chloe whispered. She went back to work and offered, “How about you say that your parents are making you quit the play because they want you to focus more on your schoolwork. You hate that it’s last minute, but you couldn’t change their minds. Then this way when people find out that you quit, they’ll already know the reason and won’t ask as many questions.”  


Rachel weighed this. “It still seems a little suspect. Especially with the play only being two weeks away. Like what happened in those two weeks that would make my parents force me to quit? Mr. Keaton will probably talk to my other teachers and they’ll say I have straight A’s. I don’t know if he’ll believe it. And what if he talks to my dad?”  


“You still have that arrangement with your dad, right?” Chloe asked.  


“Yes,” Rachel replied.  


Chloe pulled back her knife and began to inspect Rachel’s hand more. “Then it’ll be fine. People will talk about you and be mad at you for quitting. But fuck them. We’ll be out here by June.”  


Rachel dreaded the questions and disappointing people, but Mr. Jefferson’s words hung in her mind: “At the end of May, you’ll be signing contracts for movies.”  


Chloe announced, “Okay! Your hands are now perfectly camera ready.” She kissed them. As her lips were still pressed to Rachel’s palms, she briefly made eye contact with her. Rachel arched an eyebrow.  


Chloe paused. She then started to slowly work her mouth from Rachel’s hands to her long fingers. Rachel found herself reclining against the window as Chloe’s velvety lips grazed each finger. Rachel’s body flooded with a sedating warmth as she maintained eye contact with Chloe. Chloe flicked her tongue on her skin and Rachel reached out to run her hands through Chloe’s frizzing hair.  


Chloe murmured at her touch.  


The bonfire finally died as the foggy rain grew louder on the blue-lit cab.  


Rachel cupped Chloe’s face and guided her closer.

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************

When Rachel had arrived home late last night, she found herself in bed staring at her phone. She ignored the texts from people asking if she was feeling better after missing play practice and instead focused on one singular text: from Mr. Jefferson. It felt so odd to having her teacher entering her life in such a personal way. 

**8:45 pm Mr. Jefferson:** We will meet tomorrow at the lighthouse park entrance at 6:15 pm tomorrow. Please come alone (due to NDA). Please wear jeans, converse sneakers, a flannel button down shirt and a nude undershirt. The shoot should be finished no later than 9:00 pm. Please wear natural/regular make up that you normally wear. Thank you and please let me know if you have any questions. 

Rachel didn’t even know what to say. She was too tired to think and was in too good of a mood after getting to spend time with Chloe.  


Since it was late, Rachel decided to text in the morning. She didn’t want to wake him. Or would that make her appear immature if she didn’t text back immediately?  


Rachel fell asleep with her phone in her hand.  


Dawn greeted her too soon. Rachel yawned and stared at the sun creeping above the trees. From her view, she could barely make out the lighthouse. What was going to happen there tonight? What type of shoot would they have? Mr. Jefferson said she would hate it, but what could she possibly hate about a shoot? She doubted she would be naked. Anything else should be easy enough. A single thought that bloomed in her was that she may actually enjoy it. She would be finally shooting with a professional. As much as she hated Mr. Jefferson at the moment, she knew he would be able to teach her a lot, which would benefit her career later on down the road. She couldn’t get out of this project, so all she could do was make the best of it and learn all she could.  


Rachel knew she had a few things to get done before the shoot, but the one she dreaded the most was backing out of the play and calling Mr. Keaton to tell him.  


The day went by fairly quickly between biting the bullet and quitting the play (which went as well as anyone could expect, and in this case was terrible), homework, going online to see that Victoria Chase bragging about she had gotten the lead because “Rachel Amber quit. Guess she couldn’t handle the pressure”, way too many messages asking why she quit, and then trying to keep herself busy. Rachel thought she had so much more to do, but it felt like she was just biding time until 6:15 pm.  


At 3:00 pm, Rachel laid out all of her jeans, converses and her only nude undershirt trying to decide which combination would be best. Mr. Jefferson hadn’t said anything about accessories, but she knew that her feather earring was a given: it was her trademark. She would leave her bracelet at home.  


At 4:00 pm, Rachel finally figured out her outfit and decided to do her hair and makeup. She wasn’t sure if she should go heavier for the camera, but he had said to do however she usually did it and so she decided to trust him and do it that way.  


At 5:30 pm, Rachel decided it was time to leave. She didn’t want to get there too early and look desperate, but Rachel also knew that being late was a big no-no in the entertainment business.  


She texted Chloe that she was heading out. Chloe didn’t respond.  


At 6:00 pm, Rachel arrived at the entrance to the lighthouse park. She had taken the bus because she feared she would ruin her make-up by sweating too much if walked.  


The first thing Rachel noticed was Mr. Jefferson’s grey Rolls Royce. She then saw him standing behind it with the trunk open. And finally she saw a park ranger standing in front of a locked metal gate to the park entrance. Rachel scoffed. So, now what? The park was closed because Mr. Jefferson didn’t do his homework (why was she not surprised when he couldn’t even do hers) to make sure the park was open. She could only imagine what he would do for her to improvise. Pose on his car?  


Rachel walked up to Mr. Jefferson and greeted, “Hello.”  


He turned around and smiled, “Rachel! I am so glad to see you are here early. That is a good habit to have.”  


“So I have been told, Mr. Jefferson,” Rachel replied with a smirk.  


Rachel peered inside Mr. Jefferson’s trunk, but he blocked her view. He crossed his arms and asked, “I know it is before 6:15, but if you don’t need the last,” he looked down at his watch before adding, “8 minutes to do whatever you would like, we can begin early.”  


“Nothing would please me more,” Rachel gushed. She then raised an eyebrow and pointed at the ranger. “Are we still going to shoot at the lighthouse since it’s closed?”  


Mr. Jefferson looked confused for a moment, glanced over at the ranger and then laughed. “Oh, it’s not closed. I paid him to close it so only we could be there. I want complete privacy for our shoot. I can’t have anything getting out until it’s ready.”  


“Oh,” Rachel murmured. She felt suddenly stupid. Shaking her hair back, she said, “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”  


Mr. Jefferson grinned. “I don’t think it’ll be the last time.” He turned to the trunk, stopped and then looked back at Rachel. “Rachel, I want to tell you something.”  


Rachel placed her hands on her hips, but her nerves tingled. “I’m listening.”  


“Since we are doing this project as partners, equals, I wanted to let you know that if you would like to call me ‘Mark’ then that is completely fine. At school I am your teacher, but here I am your colleague. It’s up to you what you would like to call me,” Mr. Jefferson offered.  


Rachel try to suppress a snicker. Rachel had learned long ago that person’s name is the most beautiful word in the world to someone. A name held power. And by getting to call him Mark was very smart on his part because it would make Rachel more comfortable with him. However, it also made him less accountable for his actions towards her. She would admit she was thankful that he did not expect her to keep calling him Mr. Jefferson during the project because even for him, that seemed pretty condescending. However, she felt she could find a middle ground, or even better yet, a higher ground. Rachel stated, “Well, since I can call you whatever I like, I will call you Jefferson.”  


Mr. Jefferson blinked a few times with his mouth barely gaping. By her removing the “Mr.” she had reduced him to what a drill sergeant calls plebes in basic. He then forced a smile and said, “Jefferson it is.”  


Rachel stepped closer to his trunk as the wind picked up. She could smell the salty ocean air blowing past her.  


He edged to the side to show Rachel what was contained in his trunk. He explained, “So, you see my cameras and tripods, but what I care about a little more are what’s in there,” he pointed to a large black box nestled by some glass water bottles.  


“Is it a body, Jefferson?” Rachel remarked with a snide smile.  


He rubbed his nose and pushed up his glasses. “No. It’s actually your wardrobe for today.”  


Rachel mocked. “Wardrobe? I thought you told me to wear this incredible outfit for today.” She gestured to her clothes.  


Jefferson’s expression relaxed. “Yes, I did want you to wear that. Which by the way, your hair and makeup is fantastic.”  


Rachel’s stomach flipped. Before she could thank him, he continued, “But you’re not going to wear the plaid shirt. I know it makes you feel comfortable, so I wanted you to arrive in that feeling yourself. However, I have something much better.”  


“What could be better than this?” Rachel asked with a laugh. But she really did want to know what he thought was better because Rachel had a feeling it would be pretty amazing.  


Jefferson gingerly pulled off the top of the black box. As he worked, he said, “This was a gift from a very long time ago. It is handmade and sturdy, but one of a kind.” With jangling, Jefferson pulled out a see through jacket adorned with diamonds. It had cascading fringe jewels off the shoulders, tiny jewels in intricate patterns along the sleeves, and larger jewels on the front and back as if someone took sugar and threw it across a black countertop. It dazzled and sparkled in the light. The wind blew and it practically sang.  


Jefferson held it up and raised his eyebrows. “What do you think?” as the stones casted light on his face like a mirror ball.  


Rachel wasn’t sure if she should fawn over it like she wanted to or be uninterested, which felt rude. Instead she settled on a simple, “It’s perfect.”  


“Now, please take off your flannel shirt and I’ll place this on you.” He instructed.  


Rachel suddenly felt self-conscious about removing her flannel button down, even though it wasn’t even buttoned and all she had to do was shrug it off. She quietly slipped out of her shirt and placed it inside Jefferson’s trunk.  


Jefferson then gently glided the diamond jacket on Rachel. As he stood behind her to adjust the jacket, she could feel the warmth from his body and smell his aftershave. She looked down at the sandy dirt.  


Once it was properly on, Rachel turned around. She was surprised how heavy it was. She thought that this must be what it’s like to wear football gear. She admired the jacket herself and felt stunned. Here she was about to do a photo-shoot in what seemed to be couture with an actual professional photographer. Maybe that contract would be worth it.  


Jefferson stepped back, brought his hand to chin and steadied her. “The jacket looks beautiful. How does it feel?”  


Rachel replied, “Like it’ll do.”  


Jefferson chuckled. “Okay. Now one last adjustment.” He held out his hand expectantly.  


Rachel furrowed her eyebrows trying to figure out what he wanted. She only had on her clothes (that he selected) and—Rachel’s mouth unlocked. He wanted her to take off her earring. Her feather earring. Her trademark. She had to change his mind. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked feigning innocence.  


He smirked smugly. “You know. Hand it over.”  


Rachel lightly touched her earring. “But surely, you won’t make me give up my Rachel Amber trademark. It has such good juxtaposition against this high fashion jacket.”  


Jefferson kept his hand out expectantly.  


Rachel knew at this point resisting verbally would only come off as desperate. If she became passive aggressive, then she would definitely piss him off and get into a power struggle, which she would lose. She seethed and told herself that she would try to talk him into keeping it for the next shoot. That would give her time to figure out how to do that.  


Rachel’s fingers undid the earring and handed it over to him. She felt like she was handing him over an heirloom ring to be auctioned away. She wanted to light his face on fire.  


Jefferson mockingly said, “Now, don’t worry. I’ll keep it safe.” He opened a small jewelry box and placed it inside. Rachel wanted to rip it out of his hands. Jefferson then pulled out another small box from his car and opened it towards Rachel.  


Rachel’s felt like she had swallowed dizziness. Inside were two diamond feather earrings that glimmered in the light. Rachel looked up at Jefferson who was smiling. “Now, I like your feather earring trademark. But for these shoots I wanted you to have something sturdier that won’t clump when it’s wet (like in Nathan’s) or be destroyed easily. I need each shoot to be consistent and since this is black and white, I needed something that would do well without color as well. What do you think?”  


She knew he was screwing with her how he went about it, but she also found it sweet in it’s own way too that he took what she may want into consideration. “I love it,” Rachel said softly. She regretted it instantly.  


Jefferson laughed and said, “Me too. Now they’re screw backs, so they’ll be a little uncomfortable, but I needed something that will stay put and not fall out. They’re lighter than they look because I didn’t want them to hurt your ears. But be careful too because in order make sure they don’t rust, they’re platinum with diamonds. I got them custom ordered, so I only have these two. One for now and one backup. Sound good?”  


Rachel blinked her eyes a few times. He had custom-made platinum and diamond earrings for her? No. He did it for the project. She refused to be dazzled by his stupid expensive things. She was not Victoria. Rachel replied, “A suitable alternative.”  


“Do you want me to put it on or do you know how?” Jefferson asked.  


Rachel immediately said, “I can do it, just fine thank you, Jefferson.”  


As she screwed in her new feather earring (which the tighter it got, it reminded her more of the way she was shackled to him), Jefferson laid out a few different magazine spreads. Rachel stepped closer. The models were the typical high fashion where they were looking down at the camera with their mouth open in a variation of poses.  


Jefferson asked, “Do you know how to do this?” as he gestured to the magazines.  


Rachel chuckled. “Are you serious? Of course, I do. Or did you forget who you hired?”  


“Good,” Jefferson said. “Do the opposite of this. I hate this.”  


Rachel sucked in some air, feeling off balanced again. If he didn’t want this, then what the hell did he want? Rachel shrugged her shoulders. “Sure.” The jacket practically warbled as she did.  


Jefferson gathered the magazines and slapped them into the car. He then picked up his equipment, grabbed the two glass water bottles and shut the trunk. “You ready for your first shoot?” he asked with a slight smile.  


Rachel felt her toes curl. Of course she was ready. “Hella ready.”  


“Okay! Here’s a water for you in case you get thirsty,” Jefferson said.  


Rachel took it, unscrewed the top, but didn’t drink anything. She felt nervous that it might mess up her make-up.  


They walked past the ranger and trekked up the hill to the lighthouse. Rachel absorbed the sounds of the birds, crashing waves below, and her twinkling heavy jacket. She watched Jefferson in front of her weave along the path with his camera gear resting on his shoulder. She noticed how built his arms were as they flexed under his shirt. He looked over towards the cliff and she traced the outline of his masculine jaw with a little bit of stubble with her eyes. She wondered if he used to play baseball.  


When they reached the top, Jefferson turned to face her and asked, “What type of acting do you do, Rachel?”  


Rachel felt put off by the question, but immediately replied, “Method.”  


Jefferson nodded his head. He looked down at his camera equipment. “While I set up, why don’t you start to get into character? The emotion I’m looking for is devastation.” And then he turned his back.  


“Not a problem,” Rachel replied, grabbed the water bottle, and then headed towards the bench looking over the ocean. She lied. This was a problem. What the hell was he talking about? Did he want her sobbing on the ground? Did he want her about to try to jump off the cliff? Hysterical screams? Moody glances? What the fuck type of photo-shoot at a lighthouse at sunset cries devastation? Like who would come up here to bawl their eyes out, in this outfit nonetheless? Was she about to go to funeral?  


Rachel shook her head. Okay. He wanted devastation. She would give it to him. She could do this. She thought about when she found out about her dad cheating and then later about what he had done to her birth mother. She decided to focus more on him cheating because the latter was more a feeling of betrayal. She closed her eyes and remembered how much it hurt when she saw him kiss Sera. Another woman. Not his wife. She had known he was hiding something, but hoped she was wrong. She—  


“You ready, Rachel?” Jefferson called.  


Rachel faced him, her heavy jacket jingling with her. Her earring tugged more than she was used to. “I’ve been ready, Jefferson,” she confidently stated.  


Jefferson pulled the camera up to his face and said, “Time to get to work.”  


Rachel was standing next to the bench facing the ocean and froze. Did he just want her to start crying? Was he going to give her direction? What was going on?  


Jefferson edged forward, but still said nothing. He adjusted the lens and waited.  


Rachel felt a cold sweat on her neck. Was this how all fashion shoots were? Just the photographer staring at the model? Why was this so hard? This felt like it shouldn’t be this hard. He wanted devastation, so she needed to give him that. She looked at the bench. Rachel slunk onto it and put her face gently in her hands. She tried to think about her crying after she—  


“Are we doing devastation or my-boyfriend-didn’t-text-me-back?” Jefferson called.  


Rachel felt a flash of rage and snapped, “Some direction would be nice from the very experienced photographer.”  


“I didn’t think you needed it. I guess I was wrong,” Jefferson sighed.  


Rachel’s nostrils flared and tried to calm herself by focusing on the gentle waves.  


Jefferson cleared his throat and directed, “Since we’re losing light, I want you to stand by the cliff and look at the setting sun.”  


Rachel stood and forced herself to walk to the edge. She faced the sunset.  


“Now, I need you to convey to me devastation. I need you to cry. I need this to be real. I’ll give you a moment to get yourself ready, but again we’re losing light,” he chided.  


Rachel dreamt about smashing his face with the camera and wondered why the fuck it mattered if she was crying when he was photographing her from behind. However, despite this, what she needed to be doing was acting sad. It occurred to her that she’d be acting right now for play rehearsal, if it wasn’t for the contract with Jefferson, but the play acting seemed so much easier, like a joke, compared to what Jefferson was asking her to do. If this is what it was going to take to get her into the big leagues, then she needed to suck it up and do it.  


She closed her eyes and recalled the memory of burning the photo of her dad and her after she caught him cheating. She could feel her throat tightening. Her eyes burned. Her breathing came in gasps. And then she cried out. Sobs plunged from her mouth onto the ground. Rachel howled—  


“I need more!” Jefferson shouted.  


Rachel saw a flash of blood. She steadied herself, closed her eyes, breathed out and thought about how her dad didn’t give a shit about her. Tears started to roll down her cheeks. He didn’t care about her mom or Sera. He only cared about himself. He never loved her. It was all for show. Rachel let out another howl and tried to lose herself in—  


“Is that the best you can do?! How is this devastation?” Jefferson yelled, now angrier.  


Rachel’s fingers pressed into her palms and reared at the pain, forgetting about the splinters from yesterday. She bawled and her eyebrows furrowed. She turned to the side for a profile shot. Maybe that’s what Jefferson wanted. She thought about her dad was sitting at home right now working with criminals. He was a hypocrite. He could never love her. She had been lied to her—  


“Rachel! Stand up straight, face the goddamn sunset and give me devastation! I want your back to me! This isn’t that hard!” Jefferson cried.  


Rachel forced herself to face the sunset again and tried to think of what else the fuck he wanted. When would this be over? She wished Chloe was here to kick his ass. She stared up at the sky and tried to let the light bring some more tears. She was failing. She would never make it. This proved it. She began to weep with her shoulders heaving. She hated herself. She hated how fake she was. Why did she care so much what other people thought? She was a horrible person. She was a liar. The tears dripped onto her neck. So much—  


“YOU FUCKED UP MY SHOT!” Jefferson roared.  


Rachel immediately spun around. Jefferson clicked away. Rachel grabbed the glass bottle. She hurled it at his head. Jefferson ducked. The bottle exploded on the white maintenance shed behind him. Jefferson stood up, his face dumbfounded. Rachel marched over to him. She lunged for the camera. Jefferson regained his composure and held the camera above him, out of Rachel’s grasp. She shrieked and he said evenly, “You really want to owe me $15,000 for destroying this camera when you just got paid for your first big movie deal and instead of being able to put $15,000 towards a house in a more secure neighborhood to quit paying for lazy security guards, you won’t be able to because you owe me that money for a camera you smashed when you had a temper tantrum two years ago?”  


Rachel backed off as Jefferson brought down the camera. Her face was hot. She spat, “What the fuck is wrong with you?! How did I fuck up your shot!? I’m doing what you’re telling me and somehow you’re blaming me because you obviously don’t know what the fuck you’re doing?!”  


Jefferson stood up straighter and she noticed how much larger he was than her. She remembered that no one else was allowed in the park. He raised his eyebrows and calmly said, “I was talking to my camera. I never said, ‘Rachel.’ You assumed I meant you. I will apologize for the misunderstanding though if that makes you feel better.”  


Rachel stood her ground, but said nothing. He was full of shit. She kept her mouth in a firm line and only glowered at him.  


“Now, Rachel, if you want, you can leave. I will rip up the contract and you’re free to go if you don’t think you can handle this. This is a one time offer. But, if you decide you want to keep going, then I’ll show you the photos of how my camera did fuck up my shot, what we have gotten so far, and if you want to continue. It’s up to you,” Jefferson offered. He stood still with his hands cradling his camera, the sunset reflecting off its lens.  


Rachel loathed him in that moment. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was giving her the classic one-time-offer-for-a-limited-time-deal. Put a timer on anything and you increase the pressure. Add a what-you-might-miss-out-if-you-don’t-take-the-offer and your chances of tricking the person increases by tenfold. Rachel didn’t want to fall into that trap. She was smarter than that. But he was offering her an out. She paused. She could just leave here, forget this ever happened, be glad she only had to deal with this bullshit for a few hours instead of months on end and go be with Chloe. She wanted to open her mouth and tell him to go fuck his “comeback collection” and leave. However, her feet wouldn’t move. She remembered how she had already tried everything else and had still failed. She needed this. And she knew deep down inside that she wanted this. She needed to be challenged. After doing this small shoot with him, going back to anything Arcadia Bay had to offer seemed pathetic. If she was serious about leaving, then she needed to be serious about this. But on her terms.  


“I’ll stay if I get half of whatever you’re getting paid,” Rachel commanded. “You said we’re equals, right?” Her fingers trembled, but she maintained eye contact with him.  


Jefferson narrowed his eyes for a moment. He then looked her over and nodded. “Deal.”  


Rachel let out a deep breath.  


Jefferson motioned her over and she stood next to him. He said, “I want to show you these photos, but I need to trust you that you won’t try to destroy my camera. Can I trust you?”  


Rachel glared.  


“Okay then, well here we go.” Jefferson held out the camera for both of them and started rolling through the black and white photos. Rachel had to admit that in the beginning she did look pretty terrible. The outfit was fantastic, but her acting was subpar. She was standing away from him and it looked like nothing was happening despite her sobbing. Maybe that’s what he meant about her needing to do more. He then came across a couple photos of the camera having weird flashes of lights across it and blurriness.  


Jefferson uttered, “This is when I yelled at the camera for fucking up.”  


Rachel seriously doubted that someone as well trained as Jefferson would have a camera suddenly fuck up on him, but she ignored it.  


Jefferson tapped over to the next photo and stopped. This is what he meant. There was Rachel with her hair flying out from her, the sunlight illuminating her and her jeweled jacket and swinging feather earring. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were brimming with tears, her face was overflowing with betrayal, anger, frustration and a vulnerability that she didn’t know could be caught on camera. This is when she spun around about to throw the bottle at him. And this was so obviously the elusive perfect shot.  


Her rage for Jefferson went from boiling to ice. She felt in awe that they were going to spend the next few months capturing images like this. She couldn’t even fathom what this would like once he was done with it in Photoshop. She whispered, “When will you be done editing it?”  


Jefferson’s voice was closer than she realized when he chuckled. “Rachel, I’m not editing any of these.”  


She looked up at him and saw he was already looking down at her. His deep brown eyes looked more golden in the setting sun’s final rays. She said confused, “I thought all photographers edit their photos?”  


Jefferson smiled, his face softening. He raised his eyebrows and said, “Oh Rachel, I’m not going to edit any of these photos. For this collection every single one will be straight-out-of-camera. Just pure expression.”  


Rachel felt dumbfounded and said, “So, you’re telling me that for every photo we do, it has to be perfect because there will be no editing?” She was smiling as she said it and didn’t know why. She moved closer to Jefferson.  


“Why Rachel, with you and me, that should be easy. You proved you could do it today,” Jefferson confidently replied. His eyes looked at her feather earring and then back to her.  


“And how much money am I going to make from this?” Rachel asked.  


The sun was no longer visible. A cool breeze picked up. A seagull cried out. Rachel wanted to feel Jefferson’s warmth, but stayed put. Chloe wouldn’t like that. Jefferson looked away from her and commented, “The blue hour.”  


Rachel opened her mouth, but Jefferson cut her off. “You’ll make 1.25 million dollars.” He was staring at the ocean as he said it and she watched his Adam’s apple move with each breath. She could just start to make out his defined muscles under his collar. 1.25 million dollars. She could work with this man for 1.25 million dollars. Maybe even less. She wanted to gently touch his hand and ask to see the photos again, but instead placed her hand on her chest. She shivered.  


Jefferson looked down and said, “Let’s wrap this up. I’m so sorry. You’re cold. Head on down to the car.” He gave her the keys before beginning to take a few more pictures of the surroundings and picking up the broken glass bottle.  


Rachel reached the entrance gate fairly quickly. The ranger was gone. She unlocked the Rolls Royce and opened the trunk. It smelled like a new car even though Rachel doubted it was. She imagined he had it detailed often.  


She gently took off the jacket and rested it in it’s black box that was filled with silk. She then slid on her flannel and felt a little warmer.  


Jefferson walked up next to her. He was smiling and seemed a little out of breath. “Well, I must say. You nailed your first audition.”  


Rachel raised her eyebrows and asked incredulously, “Audition?”  


He smirked. “I’m joking.” His eyes traveled to the diamond feather earring and he added, “Let me get you the box for that.”  


Rachel touched the earring and mused, “What? I don’t get to keep it?”  


“If earrings both survive this project, then I promise that you can keep one,” Jefferson assured.  


After putting away the diamond feather earring, Rachel slipped on her old blue one which felt uncomfortably light. She missed the weight of the diamond earring. It made her feel more like an actual adult.  


Jefferson shut the trunk and turned to Rachel. “I will text you for our next shoot.”  


Rachel leaned forward and purred, “And when will that be?”  


Jefferson scratched his chin and sighed. She could still smell his aftershave. “Well, I’m having trouble with getting some permits and the other one is more dependent on things out of my control. So maybe in 1-3 weeks?”  


The idea of waiting that long ached in Rachel’s chest. She touched her hair and said, “What will the theme be? So, I can prepare?”  


“I’m not sure yet. But you’re either going to be really hot or really wet,” Jefferson smirked and then immediately stopped.  


Rachel bit her lip with grin and decided not to comment further.  


There was an uncertain energy between them. It was the chilly silence of when two people want to ask the same question, but both people fear different answers. They could hear the waves crashing on the beach and smell the salty air. Rachel’s fingers were cold and she stared at his large hands that strummed on the top of his car. She wondered if they were soft or calloused. Rachel pondered if he would offer her a ride home, but figured that the NDA could potentially be compromised if he did that. She wondered if the buses were still running. She realized she had no idea what time it was. She could walk home, but that was at least 30 minutes away and she was tired. She could call Chloe to come and get her, but she thought she had picked up an extra shift that night since Rachel was busy.  


“Well,” Jefferson ventured. He jiggled his keys.  


Rachel didn’t know what she wanted and because of that, she found herself at a loss for words.


End file.
